


La Femme D'Argent

by checkyourthreadtension



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Anal Sex, Aural sex, BTW Sex, Coffee, Duane Reade, Ham4Ham, Lots of Sex, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-14 22:45:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5761759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkyourthreadtension/pseuds/checkyourthreadtension
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And what should I tell Mr. Hampton you're here for at midnight?"</p><p>"To make him scream so loud from an orgasm so that his doorman won't forget who I am next time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Femme D'Argent

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Don't believe the title, this has nothing to do with women. Do you know Air? They are a French band.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NINOxRxze9k  
>  
> 
> I was asked to write this! I don't know who you are anonymous Tumblrer but this is for you! This story is about Connor Walsh fucking Oliver Hampton bang there you go. It takes place a couple years ahead. Don't destroy my headcanons please writers ~~who am I kidding they totally will~~. Oh and if I have New York totally wrong like there would _never_ be a Duane Reade in Midtown, welp they get my city wrong in movies all the time too so I feel ya. Enjoy your porn, whoever you are!

A mess of fog had plagued him the entire day, thick at dawn and a layer of anxiety on campus he hardly needed more of at this point. But after the train had sunk into the Lincoln Tunnel and back out into the sky, oh, there were stars and the lights; there the dreams stayed awake and alive and kept the blood flowing through him and a dare to hope. A hope: six more months and things would be okay. The lights were on here, no monster in the dark, no trophy, no gun. 

The dream was here in New York. 

The dream, as it happened, had woken him up faster than his morning coffee ( _their_ morning coffee). A fog was enough to send his mind into a spiraling panic ever since a freezing December night had ruined his life, but now--as in the past--Connor knew a dream was enough to keep him going through the day. A dream of a smile, a warm hand, the same that had held his and pulled him back from the brink of insanity so many times. A dream of laughter that melted the steel he put up to get through the day, of the taste of taut skin and soft lips, the sight of deep brown eyes. If a tree on campus peeking through the fog was enough to set off his panic, then all he had to do was let the dream and the hope calm him down.

It was a dream that had left him with an insatiable itch to scratch, though, ever since that start-up had opened up a second branch in Manhattan and wanted a server monkey to go with it. Cue a salary and benefits Oliver couldn't refuse.

 _It's not going to be that long. It's just for a couple of years and then... y'know. Besides, New York isn't that far from Philadelphia. Especially when_ you're _driving_.

A long-distance dream, even if it was barely an hour and a half away, was still the kind of dream to leave him restless at night, craving touch in a way he hadn't felt since he was a teenager and aching for comfort. _I'll come back down on the weekends. Or you could come up here--we could see a Broadway show together, wouldn't that be good? I-I mean, just, I've been going to the lottery to try and get tickets, but, well... you know how popular some shows can get, and I-I just..._

Weekends were good. But they weren't enough, not when Annalise's spiderweb had them all trapped in Philadelphia and he was only half-able to explain the reason why. But New York was the city of dreams and the dream would be safe there, not showing up to Annalise's office and getting itself into a nightmare of trouble, one just as bad as his. It had been the hardest and the easiest thing ever to send him off, with a kiss as full of longing and heartbreak as much as it was with love and relief. And the dream, once only a vague nothing in his mind, an instinct that kept him coming back to the apartment and the sanctuary of a warm bed and smile, had become one step closer to reality.

Who could blame him for a dream of spring, really, after everything that had happened in the past two and a half years? Just six months more and he'd be free. 

The loudspeaker in the train was mumbling some kind of announcement, something about the baggage claims as they rolled to a stop. He hadn't brought anything but his wallet, to hell with it if someone caught him in the same clothes tomorrow. The train wasn't exactly his style, but after two headaches where his car was enough to tie him in a mess of murder, there had been little appeal in driving when he didn't need to do it. And in any case the station was much closer to where he was headed, a cozy little loft in Hell's Kitchen with a striking view of Manhattan. The start-up had been quite kind with their relocation package for Oliver, once he'd let slip his boyfriend was working for one of the best lawyers in the United States. Oliver had been lovestruck with the view, he'd even dragged the bed from its lonely corner against the wall to give himself a vantage point as he slept. _Or you just want to make all of Manhattan jealous at the things I do to you,_ Connor had half-joked, already sliding a hand down past Oliver's waistband to give him a squeeze on the ass. Oliver had laughed, bubbly and infectiously, before leaning in for a kiss that nearly made him melt. _Or the things_ I _can do to_ you, _you mean,_ the kiss spoke for itself, teasing him, making him submit, and somehow Oliver had him and his bare skin pressed up against the window holy _shit_ he loved it when Oliver did that and the delirious, delicious knowledge that anyone on the corner of 10th Avenue and west-wherever could look up and see Connor Walsh being fucked into oblivion.

He smirked, laying down a box of condoms, lube, and a shot of mouthwash proudly for the clerk at Duane Reade to scan. Wouldn't that be a coincidence, if the guy with the scanner in his hand right now had seen how he'd come all over the window like a bizarre christening ceremony. He laid down a single twenty to pay for it, collected even the last penny of change--seeing Frank in action had left him paranoid about leaving a paper trail, no matter how insignificant it could be--and headed back out into the lights, looking up at all the dreams. His was nearby, so close he could taste it, and his heartbeat was quickening with each step. The light in the apartment wasn't on, perfectly understandable for how late it was, but it gave him an anxious flicker of a thought for a moment, the same as when he'd come home to spilled milk and an open fridge door. But he was safe here, he had to be. Take a breath. Ollie's okay. Just sleeping. Hell, he texted him earlier; he knew Oliver was okay. 

"Hold it."

He glanced up. This must have been the doorman for the night shift; the doorman for the day knew damn well who he was and how much he tipped to make sure he didn't forget. "Oliver Hampton, 1703," he smirked and offered a hand to shake, a hundred nicely snug in his palm. Small price to pay for a priceless dream.

"Is Mr. Hampton expecting you tonight?"

"Oh, I sincerely doubt it," he grinned. "I'm not on his guest list? Connor Walsh."

A quick check in his notes and the doorman sized him up before reaching for the intercom. "And what should I tell Mr. Hampton you're here for at _midnight?_ "

"To make him scream so loud from an orgasm so that his doorman won't forget who I am next time." He waved the box of condoms with a smirk.

The doorman's reaction was priceless, his jaw dropping in shock and the hundred floating softly to the floor. Connor himself reached over the counter to buzz himself in and headed right for the elevator, his heart pounding suddenly now that he was on his own and the anxiety had caught up with him. _I could never be that confident,_ Oliver had been in awe of him at first, until he'd realized just how hard it was to pretend to not worry all the time. But the doorman wouldn't be any trouble now, not that the doors were already opening. No need to worry. Deep breath. Oliver was so close, he could hardly wait, already growing hard with all the things he wanted to do. _Wake up_ , he sent a quick text.

 _You okay?_ came the text back a few seconds later. Better than ever.

He knocked on the door, his heart pounding, skin prickling, and the door opened a second later and he raised his eyes and there he was, of course he was, his dream, his Oliver, rubbing his eyes and half-asleep yet. It took a half-second for him to register who, exactly, was standing at his door at this hour, but they fluttered open in pleasant surprise and just a bit impressed at his boyfriend's audacity. It was his lips instead that were tinged with concern, and he knew already what Oliver wanted to say even if he was too surprised to make it out. _Does Annalise know you're here?_

He pulled Oliver close with a yank on his shirt, nearly enough to tear from his skin, and breathed. "Just us." 

Connor slammed Oliver against the wall with his kiss, thirst taking over and desperate for taste. Just by the taste of it he could already tell that Oliver had been through his nightly routine already; a mug of chamomile for sleep and to wash down his pill easier, and the vanilla mint of his toothpaste. Oliver responded in kind, though he wasn't quite as awake as Connor was and stopped to yawn right as Connor dived for his collarbone. "You could've told me you were coming," Oliver laughed as Connor burrowed his hands under his tanktop, reaching out to shut the door and lock it. "I would've--gotten myself ready. Or at least stayed awake."

"How about I help you out with both of those," Connor smiled, lifting his head back up to nibble at Oliver's earlobe and letting his stubble rake against soft neck skin, earning him a squirm of pleasure and a giggle. Oliver's hair was still just a bit damp from the shower and still thick with the scent of his shampoo, a scent burned so deeply into Connor's memory that he'd been smelling it everywhere the entire day, as real as every other part of the dream was. _You are such a lovesick dork,_ Oliver had laughed when he'd confessed that he hugged his old pillow at night just for the smell of it, but his bashful smile had spoken volumes more, falling just that much more in love. How could Ollie ever think that he wasn't worth being his dream; how could he ever think he would never be loved? When he said he was everything he'd _meant_ it.

"I can't believe you came all the way up--here," Oliver gasped a little as Connor lifted up the hem of his tanktop, and lifted his arms to fling it off, as Connor practically ate him up with his eyes. "I mean, I know you said in--in your text you couldn't wait until the weekend but I didn't think--oh--"

Connor was kissing down his neck, obsessive little kisses, down to his chest. "So you thought I was _going_ to wait?"

"Should've known better," Oliver smiled, craning up to meet Connor's lips as he kissed over to tease a nipple. Oliver was halfway hard already, but Connor could feel his cock twitch in response and grow even harder. As much as Oliver loved the comfort and intimacy of domestic bliss, he definitely had a kink for the thrill and _god_ was it hot when he got into it. Connor felt Oliver's hand slide from his shoulder, down the curve of his back and sliding cozily into the back pocket of his pants. There he could squeeze hard and pull Connor even closer, bring their bodies flush together and let each other feel how badly they wanted each other, grinding against each other not even a foot from the door.

Jesus _Christ_ , it was good. Too good to waste on just humping each other. "I've been thinking about you all fucking day," Connor swiveled Oliver's face to meet his. "Thinking about _fucking_ you all day."

Oliver smiled and blushed just slightly. "Grinding against the front door isn't doing it for you?" He teased a little, kissing Connor's neck, softly where he was the most sensitive to touch, and _god_ Oliver was too good, those kisses could get him to do anything. And still kissing, Oliver was slowly unbuttoning Connor's shirt, though at an agonizingly slow pace. "Spending too much time in that lecture hall thinking about what we did?"

The thought of it made him even harder and he didn't even think that was possible at this point. "Maybe thinking about all the _lessons_ I need to _teach_ you," he shoved Oliver's sweatpants to the floor. Oliver beamed up at him, chewing his lip in anticipation and-- _fuck it_ , Connor yanked Oliver's underwear down too and dropped to his knees, taking him into his mouth without a second thought. Oliver's gasp of pleasure was the best thing he'd heard all day, and no matter how many times he'd heard it before nothing was better than hearing it in person and knowing _he_ was the reason for it. He ran his tongue around the head and sucked, tasting and watching as Oliver arched his body for more, before taking him all the way in down to his throat.

"C-Connor," Oliver moaned out his name as he slid back and made sure to run his tongue along the underside of his cock as slowly as he could. Connor stopped right beneath the head, teasing the thin skin right beneath and watching as Oliver nearly went crazy with pleasure, his hands groping for something to hold onto. With a smirk, Connor kept his eyes on Oliver as he took his teasing a little further and dared to softly bite the skin with his teeth, his heart pounding to hear Oliver's loud gasp and a moan that probably woke up at least one neighbor. "Oh my _god_ ," Oliver was trying to thrust into his mouth for more.

"Don't come," Connor said it as much to Oliver as he did to himself, before taking Oliver's cock back in his mouth and sucking again, building up a steady motion. Maybe if he'd cared to lose himself in the moment he would've closed his eyes, but Oliver's thrusting, his shudders and the sounds that were coming from his mouth were things he _wanted_ to burn into his memory. He never wanted to forget how incredible Oliver looked, as his instincts were taking over and he couldn't help but seek out more warmth from his tongue. Connor sucked harder, teasing the skin again, and Oliver threw his head back, letting out another loud moan. 

Oliver was shivering from pleasure, his breath getting faster. But as lost in passion as he was, he still couldn't quite let go: "Con, I c-can't come in you, I don't have a condom on, you have to--" 

So he slowly backed off, giving one last kiss to the skin under the head of his cock and smirking at how it involuntarily twitched. "I have other plans," Connor stood back up, looking Oliver in the eye first--Oliver, flushed on the brink of an orgasm, something pleading in his eyes for release--and kissed him, finally dragging themselves away from the wall and towards the bed. He flung Oliver down on his back, tossed the bag from the drugstore onto the bed as well, and eagerly undressed himself, though it didn't take quite as long thanks to Oliver unbuttoning his shirt earlier. Even still a bit drowsy from sleep, Oliver was eager: body awake and searching for its partner, splayed for his eyes and writhing against the bed. God, was he beautiful like that; there wasn't any other word for it.

He could remember their very first night together so long ago, after the Maker's Manhattans and finding themselves tangled in the sheets. How could he forget? Oliver had been ready for anything he'd given, he'd turned over for a rimjob without a second thought and had let go of his inhibitions almost completely. Almost. _What do you want?_ he'd asked, nipping at Oliver's earlobe, settling deep inside him with trembling legs hooked over his shoulders. _I'll give you anything you want. Don't be shy_.

And Oliver had blushed scarlet and turned away. _... Say my name,_ he'd finally replied, as if he'd asked for something _truly_ filthy. 

That wasn't filthy. He could do that. _Oliver_ , he'd punctuated it with a thrust, rewarded with a gasp of pleasure and Oliver bucking up against him, drawing him further inside. _Oliver_ , he said it again, over and over, and the sounds that Oliver were making in response had him going even harder and faster, grabbing at his skin to pull him even closer. _Oliver, Oliver_. 

_Connor_.

But he'd said it with such raw need in his voice, such desire that he knew exactly what Oliver wanted and gave it without a second thought. Each breath of his name, each thrust ever so deeper, and Oliver was completely giving himself over. _Oliver. Connor._ Faster and harder. _Oliver. Connor._ Desperate. He wanted it just as badly. _Oliver. Connor. Oliver. Conno--Con--_

It occurred to him all too late, with a hookup in a bathroom stall that didn't mean anything, and meant even less when he realized in the thick of it, that Oliver had been the only one who'd said _his_ name like that before. And that Oliver was the only name he could remember; the only one worth remembering. The only one worth saying a dozen different ways with your tongue.

Connor smirked again and scrambled onto the bed, leaning over Oliver and letting his eyes trail down his chest. No matter how many times he saw his skin he could never get over it, how warm and soft to the touch he was (and if he was being honest about his vanity, how jealous he was of the fact that Oliver didn't have any chest hair to get rid of, either). He laid soft kisses down his chest, pausing to tease and suck each nipple as he went, as Oliver happily obliged and offered himself up. He kissed lower and lower, down past his waist--"Stop that!" Oliver giggled and batted him away. "You know I'm ticklish there."

"Guess I forgot," Connor raised an eyebrow and licked his lips.

"You so did _not_ forget, you dork," Oliver laughed, but relented to Connor's kisses along his hip bone. He gently pushed Oliver's legs up and out of the way as he let his tongue trail slowly down the head of his cock, reveling in the sigh that Oliver let out; lower and lower, to the skin underneath that tasted of sweat and smelled of soap, just a hint of Oliver's own scent but enough to make his head spin; and finally down to the tight opening, taking his time to lick a full circle around as Oliver gasped and eagerly pushed back, wanting to bring him inside. Rimming had always been a specialty of his, but after Oliver's diagnosis--and a sheepish question at the clinic about the risk involved in _oral-anal transmission_ , as the doctor had put it in his wholly clinical response--he put more effort into it than he'd ever done with anyone before, anything to bring their bodies together just a little bit closer.

Oliver let out a small whimper of pleasure as his fists twisted the sheets, keen for more, trying to push back to get more skin against tongue. _Connor,_ he moaned, and Connor let his tongue dip inside just slightly, then a bit deeper, and then just a bit further until he pulled out to lick and tease the rim again. The sigh of pleasure and the shudder against his tongue encouraged him even further, gnawing on the skin just enough to make Oliver gasp before plunging his tongue further inside. _Oh god, oh god, oh god_ \--Oliver was rambling, writhing against him as he flicked his tongue inside, inching slowly toward his goal. He was loosening up, opening up for him as he slid out again to suck and tease his rim, enough so that he could slide his tongue in deep enough to hit his prostate. And the sound when he finally _did_ hit had to have been loud enough to wake up the neighbors a few floors down. " _Connor--_ " 

_And everyone will know who did it to him, too._ Good. He went even harder, teasing as best as he could, reveling in how it drove Oliver crazy and the sounds that spilled from him. _Oh fuck, oh_ god _, fuck, Connor, C-Connor--fuck--_ And as his body jerked, unable to hold still, Connor grabbed onto his ass and pulled him in closer. Oliver was right on the edge, he could tell, tightening around him and his breath coming in short gasps. Another flick and-- " _C-Connor_ \--" 

Followed by the loud scream he'd dared the doorman with. _Round one_ , Connor grinned, pulling out and lightly kissing up the back of Oliver's thigh as he came down from his orgasm. He hadn't been looking at Oliver's expression, focused more on rimming him into oblivion, but as he sat up on his knees and saw just how hard Oliver had come over himself, Connor thought he might come himself just from the sight of it. Oliver shaking, covered in his own mess, eyes watering, cheeks flushed and yet smiling like he'd been to heaven and back. _Totally_ worth the trip up to the city.

He fished for the mouthwash in his bag. "Be right back," he gave Oliver a quick peck on the knee and delighted in how it sent him into another full-body tremor. 

"H-holy shit," was all Oliver could make out, breathless, as Connor casually took a swig of the mouthwash and swished it in his mouth, pattering over to the open kitchen to get a towel. The bed was still facing the large window towards Manhattan, and Connor smirked with the idea that Oliver had been seen _and_ heard. What did he care? This was his dream; this was all he wanted.

Connor grabbed for the nearest towel and ran it under the faucet, spitting out his mouthful while he was at it. Back to the bed and Oliver was more himself, though still shaking as he caught his breath. "Sorry," Oliver smiled shyly. "I-if I knew you were coming, I would've cleaned up a little better for you--"

"I like it better that way," Connor cut him off with a soft smirk and Oliver blushed slightly as Connor cleaned him off. HIV didn't last long in open air, that wasn't the issue; but Oliver would appreciate not having to send his comforter to the dry cleaners for the fifth straight month in a row. "C'mon. Which one feels better; my tongue or that bucket you said your mom was freaking out about that you didn't have?"

Oliver giggled again. "You mean the tabo? I don't know. Pretty stiff competition," he grinned, though the way he beamed at Connor made it obvious which he preferred. "What can you do that the tabo can't?"

The next second saw him jerking at Connor's touch, as he'd slyly inserted a lubed-up finger inside. "I can do that," Connor leaned in closer to Oliver's ear, and he hooked his finger forward ever so slightly, reveling in Oliver's moan; whispering, "And that."

Oliver was rubbing up against him desperately, at the mercy of touch. "You're too good at this," he sighed and bared his neck for a kiss and Connor gladly obliged, _needing_ to show him how much he missed him and needed him, how he'd break if he couldn't dream anymore. 

"Oliver," he let himself say the name out loud, heavy with his desperation. And of course Oliver sighed softly as he always did, letting himself be loved, as Connor flirted with another finger. But Oliver wasn't content to lay back, he never was. His free hand pulled Connor close, so warm to the touch compared to Connor's cool skin, bringing their erections together. And for every move of his fingers inside, Oliver rocked against him, causing a delicious friction between them that nearly made Connor lose his concentration. Oliver was ready for him, but it took all the willpower he had to pull away from his body to get ready himself.

"You want to use these?" he groped for the box of condoms and shook it to get Oliver's attention.

The reproachful smile was answer enough, as Oliver opened the box and plucked out a condom. "You know better than that."

He did. Not that he would've minded, though. The disease didn't make his dream a nightmare; a part of him was insane enough to let himself be infected, if only so he knew for himself the toll it took on Oliver, that he was willing to share literally everything with this man, the good and the bad. _You are officially nuts_ , Oliver would brush it off. But after how many other insane things they'd dealt with, would it really be so bad? Even just grinding against him felt better than it had any right to be. "You ready?"

Oliver nodded, carefully tearing open the little packet and rolling the condom down. A squirt of lube came next, and Oliver could make it feel so good somehow, with his warm fingers gradually sliding all the way to the base of his cock, teasing as much as he could, warming it up. Connor felt himself arching into Oliver's hand, his own body desperate for some kind of release after he'd held back on himself for so long. Connor pushed Oliver's legs out of the way, lined himself up and pushed inside, his eyes on Oliver the whole time.

_Jesus Christ._

Oliver was so tight, so warm, so _good_ \--Connor almost couldn't bring himself to go slow, though he knew he had to do it. Slowly, steadily, he pushed inside, watching Oliver carefully for even the smallest flicker of pain. Too dangerous for Ollie to get hurt. But Oliver was quite used to it, smiling gently the whole time and letting out a breathless moan as his prostate was hit. "S-sorry. It's sensitive," he smiled apologetically. 

"Ollie, you don't have to say sorry so much," Connor kissed him to drive the point home. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah--you can-- _oh_ \--" Oliver nearly choked on his breath a little as Connor thrust hard into him. "Oh fuck--do that again, do that a-- _Connor!_ "

"Ollie," he clung to Oliver, god he felt so good, no one felt as good as Oliver. This was what he needed, this was all he needed, just him and Oliver and dreams and hope that everything would be okay. Ollie was everything. Connor eased into a rhythm, already knowing by instinct how exactly to thrust to hit Oliver's prostate, and Oliver was back to being a flushed bundle of nerves, all lit on fire and begging for release. " _Ollie,_ " he said his name again, more desperately; Oliver had to know how much he meant to him. No wonder it was Oliver's kink. What could be more intimate than your lover's name?

He picked up his pace, thrusting even harder and Oliver pulled him down on top of him, lips seeking him out for a desperate kiss. Oliver was so warm, all he wanted to do was stay inside him forever, have Ollie never let him go ever ever. His hair, neatly gelled as always was tumbling apart and dripping with sweat, falling around his face, and Oliver reached up another hand to pull at his scalp, bring him closer still. "God, Ollie, I need you," he moaned into Oliver's neck, tasting Oliver's sweat. "Y-you have no idea how much I--"

" _Connor_ ," Oliver responded with a cry of his name. _I know. Because I need you too,_ it said, as he groped desperately to bring Connor even closer, hiking his legs up higher. Connor responded to that by reaching into the space between them, right for Oliver's cock and pumping as fast as he could. Oliver's gasp was incredible, he threw his head back, thrashing side to side desperately. Oliver was close again, he could feel it inside as he clenched around him; the way his breath was growing quick just as before; and how the closer he got to orgasm the louder his cries grew. And finally, Oliver couldn't take it anymore, grabbing onto Connor desperately and screaming out again, as he came onto Connor's fist. The scream, the sight, the warmth clamping around him, everything _god_ everything about his Ollie, everything in the moment, Connor couldn't hold himself back and with a final thrust he came as well, collapsing onto Oliver with the last of his strength.

"That... was ridiculous," Oliver chuckled, practically awestruck. "I-in a good way, I mean."

Connor was utterly out of breath though, covered in sweat, overwhelmed by his own instinct. "Oliver," he managed to whisper out one more time, as Oliver pulled him close and safe into his warm embrace, gently rubbing his back and taut muscle. _I'm sorry I'm like this. I'm sorry I'm so pathetic and needy that I had to come up here all the way even though I don't deserve you any of you._ "Ollie--"

"Connor?"

Oliver lifted his head and Connor couldn't even tell what was real or dream. His smile, even in the dark, was too good to hope for.

"Don't wake me up tomorrow, Ollie. I don't want to wake up."

Oliver smiled even more at that. Damn it. "Think of it another way. When you wake up we'll be one more day closer until you're done."

Just six more months. "Wake me up then." He rolled over, pulling the condom off, hoping his legs had enough stamina to let him stand up and wash the damn thing off.

"Connor?"

He turned. Ollie was blushing again, lit by the city lights just like he'd dreamed about the whole day. "... I love you. Thanks for coming tonight."

Whatever pangs of guilt and murder and lies still lied bare, Connor pushed them aside. "Love you too," he smiled back.

And this, he knew, would be the new dream that would keep him going.


End file.
